


Quicksand

by ijnt



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Akrem is also a Twi'lek, Akrem is deeply angry about slavery, Akrem wasn't really impressed with Padme, Canon-Typical Violence, Female Dark Side Revan because the Jedi are hypocrites, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Gen, I don't, I don't write milscifi so it's probably bad, I mean do any of you think about the same girl for 10 years?, Palpatine is a nice father-figure, The Dark Side is a helluva drug, The Dark Side of the Force (Star Wars), a key will be provided for in-universe concepts, because these movies have too many white men, right up until he's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ijnt/pseuds/ijnt
Summary: Akrem Skywalker, Twi’lek, hates chains, dancing, and most of all, the human men who are fond of both. Needless to say, she’s got better things to do than listen to old men playing politics, lightsabers or not. Still, freedom is sweet… maybe a little too sweet.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	1. Padawan

The learning center was a large, low circular part of the Temple complex. Obi-Wan found himself in one of the rooms, a small, homey office where the teachers organized their work.

Akrem had done something, again. It hadn't even been two months and he'd been in this wing ten times. Master Sennai stood in front of him, long beard bristling.

"The girl is too wild. I cannot control her. She barely listens, and she cannot be trusted to complete her homework, nevermind on time."

"I understand that," Obi-Wan said, diplomatically. "But you must understand that she has only just learned to read. She is not like the other students."

"So what? I am supposed to make an exception, to teach her everything? I have a challenge enough already, teaching all the younglings all the things they need to know. But this girl of yours, your padawan, there is so much to teach her. I can't stop every lesson to explain the most basic things."

They sat there, having the same conversation he always seemed to have. Akrem had no respect. Akrem didn't do her homework. Akrem had trouble sitting still. Akrem was an impossible student, because she was too old and too advanced and too behind, all at the same time.

He sighed, and nodded his head, dutifully. "I will speak with her."

Master Sennai folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. "If it were up to me, a child like her would not be allowed to be in my classes at all. She is too old to start learning this."

"Of course, Master."

"If she's not done with the amount of work I set her by this weekend, she's no longer welcome in my classes."

"Understood." He nodded, and stood to leave.

Sennai dismissed him, with a casual wave.

Obi-Wan vanished from the office, as quickly as he could.

* * *

He found her in their shared quarters, still unfurnished, serious face furrowed, tongue poking out of her mouth. An exposed droid was splayed across her small cot, and the inner workings were floating through the air, like snowflakes, swirling during a storm.

She wasn't supposed to be taking apart the cleaning droids, but that was not the argument to have, right now.

"Akrem?"

She glanced up, frowning. The parts around her wavered, slightly, in the air, before dropping to the plain bedspread.

"Yes, Master?"

His padawan was a tiny thing, he thought, with a hint of regret. She had that odd quality in that she looked always somehow swaddled in clothes that seemed too large for her, even when he'd gone out of his way to find Jedi robes that fit. Even now, she was a little hunched, and huddled, into them. He could see her thin neck and thinner arms, and tiny fingers poking out of them, bunched up.

He worried, for her. That she was eating enough. And her skin. He'd never seen a Twi'lek with that coloring before her, so he wasn't sure what a healthy skin tone looked like. Her skin was the color of soot - dark grey. He wasn't entirely convinced that it was natural, but there were many odd things about Akrem Skywalker.

Her blue eyes were clear, and bright, however, and she had such a careful grasp of the Force that he knew that she was healthy. But he mentally noted down another trip to the healer, just to make sure she was a healthy weight. Her thin padawan braid glimmered, over her shoulder. It was made of some kind of leather, cord, oddly light and shiny, wrapped in an elaborate lattice around one lekku. There were spaces for beads, but she was new. She wouldn't have any yet.

But he was supposed to be Having a Talk.

"I spoke with Master Sennai today. About…"

"He was mad, wasn't he?" she cut him off, glancing away. "He's always mad."

"Akrem," he said, patiently. "I understand that this has not been easy, but I am sure that Master Sennai does not get mad. It is not the Jedi way."

"Of course he doesn't," she said, snappishly, voice raising slightly. He could feel the tension in her. Not quite anger, or fear, but tense, sharp irritation. Enough to make him worry.

"You have to let it go."

"That doesn't help!" she hissed at him, lekku swaying dangerously. As sharply as it appeared, her anger vanished, pushed away into the Force. "I don't know how."

"You release your emotions into the Force."

She glanced at her hands, curled tightly around herself. "It stops it. But," she glanced up at him, bright eyes shining with tears. "If I can't stop the thing that causes it, it just happens again. It doesn't _fix_ anything."

"So we work on fixing it."

She glanced back at the droid she'd been working on. "It's not like… fixing a droid."

"Speaking of which, we've had a discussion about you taking apart the droids before," he said, resignedly. He wasn't really mad, but he felt like he had to say it.

"It's easy to fix a droid," she continued. "It makes sense. But being a Jedi…" she trailed off, slowly. "I miss Mom."

"The Jedi are your family now," he said, firmly. The quicker she got used to that, the better. But that didn't mean that he had to be unkind. "It's natural to worry about her."

"She always knew what to do," Akrem asserted. It was endearing, to see her certainty.

"Well, I might not be Mom, but I know a thing or two," he said, chuckling.

She wrinkled her nose at him, conveying her displeasure with that idea as best she could. He couldn't entirely blame her. He felt like he didn't know what he was doing, a lot of the time. It was probably true. All he could do was be patient with her, and be the perfect Jedi, for her to look up to. He couldn't afford to be the Padawan, anymore. He had to be the Master, the wise, all-knowing Master, and he could not let an ounce of it show, on his face or in his voice.

"If you want, I can help you with the writing," he offered, instead.

She eyed him, shrewdly. "I know." She smiled, a little. He could tell it was forced, and not just because of the echoes in the Force. "It's not easy. But I have to practice."

"It is important," he reminded her, gently. "It won't be long, either. We'll be on missions soon enough. We just have to cover the gaps in your… lack, of an education."

She scoffed, quietly. "Yes, Master," she said, dutifully. He wondered, then, just how jaded she'd become. It had seemed only a short while ago, that she'd been bursting with excitement, at the prospect of becoming a Jedi.

Not for the first time, he found himself desperately missing Qui-Gon. The Master who'd promised her the world, and not lived long enough to deliver it. And like everything else, he'd inherited his Master's debts.

He sighed, and released that bit of frustration, easily, letting it go with everything else that came with Qui-Gon's death.

"But before we begin, clean that up," he ordered.

A wave of her hand, and the pieces were levitating back up, into the droid.

"I was making it better." She pouted.

"I don't doubt that, but now is the time to work, not to relax."

"It helps me think," Akrem said, softly.

"Then you can get to it later."

"Okay."

* * *

The crowd rushed ahead. They ran, excited as anything. Akrem had been excited too, before she realized that no one her age would sit with her. Instead, she had to sit with the little ones, and their older padawan minders, which wasn't great. It felt… well, it didn't feel like sitting with the other children, back home on Tatooine. But she wasn't supposed to be feeling at all, which made it feel even worse.

Or, if she wanted, she could sit with Obi-wan, which somehow was less great than sitting with the younglings.

The other nine-year-olds - or the ones who were of equivalent maturity - they didn't want anything to do with her. It was already enough that she was ahead in some classes, and very behind in others. She barely saw them. In some of her lessons, she was very far ahead, and in others, she was woefully behind.

In many, she was both.

Obi-wan had said that it was an adjustment period, decided by him and the Council. Most Padawans, when chosen, had passed the basic exams. She had not. But she'd been chosen, which the exams were supposed to prepare you for, so she didn't have to take them, but she still had to know it.

So she was stuck. A youngling, but not. A padawan, but not. And she had no idea how to talk to any of the other kids around her.

And no one - no one - not even Obi-wan - told her anything helpful. It was always 'let it go,' or 'such is the will of the force.' She couldn't feel anything about it. She wasn't supposed to feel.

It wasn't supposed to hurt. And Obi-wan, who cared, was too… he was perfect. He had it all figured out. He didn't embarrass himself in lightsaber class by asking about the seventh form and why they weren't learning that (it was something that was reserved for Master Windu, and his students - the same Master Windu who'd seemed so threatening, at the meeting), or come off very impolite, for asking about why the Jedi didn't free the slaves on Tatooine (their talents were better off used on places 'where they could best serve the people').

Because she hadn't been raised knowing the right things, there were a lot of moments where she said the wrong things. And that meant that no one wanted to talk to her.

Which meant she was alone. It wasn't fun to be alone. And it was worse, that she wasn't supposed to be feeling things. But maybe that was the point. She had to unlearn as much as she had to learn.

Maybe it was better that she had no one to talk to. No one to get attached to.

So she lagged behind. She'd be okay, for a while, skipping out on lunch. She could arrive late, and just have a small thing. And then there would be more classes, but maybe it would be enough that she could visit the Archives later.

* * *

The next morning, Master Pienna took her aside, before class started. Maser Pienna was the Force teacher, who instructed them on how to use the Force. Akrem was an Ithorian, slow and patient and very gentle. She was Akrem's favorite.

"Please, Padawan Akrem," she said, in her low, rumbling voice. "A word."

"Yes, Master," she agreed, and let her guide her out of the room, gently. She didn't put any hands on Akrem, simply motioning with her where she wanted.

The office was small and cramped.

"Akrem," Master Pienna said. "There is no point to you being here."

"Am I being… sent away, Master?" she forced out, keeping the anger down.

"No," she said, drawing back, alarmed. "I merely meant that you know, already, all the things you need to know. If that is not enough, the fact that you won the Push-Feather tournament is evidence enough. Someone as young as you hasn't won that competition in decades."

"Oh," Akrem said, relaxing. That was better, to know. She thought Push-Feather was easy, at least compared to using the Force to assemble droids. "Okay."

"Your control over the Force, Akrem, is nothing short of marvelous for your age. That trick with the hiding, as you called it," Pienna's warm, gentle demeanor pitched up, into excitement.

"Oh," Akrem repeated, slowly. "Thanks…"

"I understand. And if you ever have any questions, please come back to me. You're a rare talent, you know. I barely had to tell you anything you didn't already know."

"Thank you," Akrem said, even if she found herself lost for words.

Pienna inclined her head, slowly. "You are dismissed, Padawan."

Akrem nodded, dumbly, and pocketed her datapad. And then left, before anyone could call her back.

* * *

She knocked on the door of the apartment, feeling her heart in her throat. It felt a little weird, being here, because the Jedi were supposed to be impartial. But Qui-Gon had been friends with the Supreme Chancellor. They'd been close enough that he'd done personal favors for the man.

And Palpatine wanted that with her. Obi-wan had said that would be okay, at some point, and he was out on a mission and Palpatine had said it was okay, so it wasn't like she shouldn't be here.

It still had felt odd. She wasn't sure what she'd done to impress him. With someone like Watto, she knew how to handle them. Obi-wan, she was getting a better sense for - he just wanted her to be a good Jedi. She wasn't very good at that, but she was trying.

But Palpatine was an unknown prospect, completely.

She was let in by one of his blue-armored guards, who took her into his apartment, the impressive red architecture splayed out. It was a big room, with Palpatine behind a desk, smiling grandfatherly, at her.

She didn't really trust it.

"Padawan Skywalker, welcome! Welcome!" He got up, walking around the desk, and sat himself in one of the armchairs, in front, crossing his legs, and gesturing her to sit.

She did so, pulling her legs up. She wasn't very big, so the chair let her perch on it, knees up to her chest.

"Hello, Your Excellency," she said, careful to use the right words, feeling a little bit out of place.

"I'm so excited to hear about your first few months as a Jedi!" he exclaimed. "Tell me, tell me, I so dearly wish to know. I am sure that you are doing prodigiously!"

She didn't know what that word meant, but she wanted to. She filed it away, to look up later. But for now, she nodded.

"I'm okay. I already finished my Force classes," she admitted. "But some of the others are… slower…"

"And I am sure you won't take too long," he said, gently. "But the fact that you've advanced beyond students that were working already for almost a decade… that is truly impressive."

She ducked her head, feeling heat on her cheeks. He was being very kind, but she wasn't sure she should be feeling proud.

So instead, she said, "History is my worst subject. I only just learned how to read." Admitting it out loud, helped, a little. Her pride in how far she'd come was tempered by how far she still had to go.

"Ahh, but I can tell you authoritatively that most people could not pass the Jedi Academy history test a few months after learning to read," he said, winking. "And is everything good between you and your Master, Obi-wan Kenobi?"

"I… um." She glanced at his chin. He had a butt-chin, over his quilted blue robe. It was not fancy, but she could tell it was soft.

"Please, Akrem," he implored. "I'm very interested in your progress, and dissonance with your Master will only slow you down."

"I - it's nothing." She hesitated, but forced it out. "Master Kenobi is… a fine Master, I am lucky to have him."

"I - oh," he said, sitting back, folding his arms, and eyeing her. His grey eyes were filled, with understanding. "I think I understand, now."

She pulled back, shrinking into the couch, as tightly as she could.

He continued, undaunted, but he kept his presence restrained. "I think I understand, even if they do not. You have spent years in a life that they have not, and as such, they do not realize the… weight, of calling someone Master. To them, it is merely a title. I would hazard a guess - and mind, I have not lived as you have - that they do not even realize what they are asking, to call them that."

She didn't say anything, for a long, careful minute, as she looked at his chin. Could she trust him? Would he say anything? She didn't want to be kicked out. No one else at the Temple couldn't respect their elders. No one else needed to ask.

She couldn't say anything. She eyed him again. He _felt_ genuine enough. And he wasn't a Jedi.

"You can't say anything," she told him, desperately.

"If that is your wish," he said, carefully, "they won't hear it from me. But-" he held up a hand, as she opened her mouth to protest, "It would help, I would think, if they were to."

"They _can't_ know," she repeated.

"They _should_ ," he replied, equally as vehemently.

"I'm not supposed to be upset about it!" she snapped, feeling a little bit of anger. That wasn't good. She tamped that down, reminding herself that she wasn't safe. Like speaking to one of Them.

He just watched her, not responding to her anger, as she continued, "Everything I say that's not… a Jedi thought, it's not right. They don't want to hear it."

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he said, gently. "I have great respect for the Jedi Order. But that does not mean that they are perfect. And in this, I think that they are a little bit out of their depth."

At her confusion, he clarified, "I mean that they did not want you - that they resisted training you, not just because they are worried about your age, but because they don't know how. No one comes to the Temple at your age. Your classes - they are not normal, are they? You have no one else who is where you are.

"And I am not just speaking of talent. I mean that you mentioned reading - I am sure that they are taught to read as younglings, so that is one difference I can already assume. I do not pretend to know much about the Force, but I can imagine that in that, too, you are far from a normal student."

He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. "I am not saying this to upset you." Oh, she had tears running down her face. She hadn't meant that to happen.

He shushed her, gently. He didn't move to comfort her, like Mom would have, and Akrem was almost glad for it. She didn't need that. She was going to be a Jedi.

"I am simply saying that it must be very hard for you, and that your feelings are real, and you are allowed to have them. The Jedi might not be able to help you with them, or acknowledge them, but they remain, and they are… natural," he finished. "They tell you things - important things. Feelings are important to survival."

"Oh," she said. Her tears hadn't stopped, but suddenly, that wasn't quite the end of the world like it was just a moment ago.

"It's quite alright, dear one," he said. "I know that this seems like it is the last thing from the truth, but these feelings will pass. They will not last forever. If you truly wish to stop feeling, time is your greatest ally."

"Okay."

"If you hide them away," he said, carefully, "I have found that they lessen with time. And of course, I am here, for you." He leaned back, smiling again. "Now, with that, what _do_ you like about the Temple? I would dearly like to know."

"Okay," she repeated, a little numbly. He didn't comment on her tears, and eventually, they stopped.

But she was surprised, to find herself still speaking.

* * *

The girl was in the library. Akrem walked up, and smiled at her. The blue Twi'lek looked up, surprised, and smiled back. She was the one who had helped Akrem earlier, with her padawan not-braid.

"Hi! You're back. Did you need anything else?"

"Hello, Aayla," Akrem replied. " _Do you speak Ryl_?" she asked, lekku moving to convey the question.

"Oh, is that-" She shook her head. "No, I grew up in the temple, and I'm not a diplomat, sorry."

Oh. _Oh_. That was stupid of her, thinking that she would know the language, despite not being raised anywhere it was spoken. Akrem didn't know that much - she only knew what the other slaves would tell her.

"Sorry," Akrem said, and fled, face full of humiliation and shame, before she fled.

There were a lot of Twi'lek slaves on Tatooine, but she only learned so much. The nice woman who made clothes, Amee, spoke Ryl - she'd used to be a dancer, before she saved enough to buy her freedom. She'd taken Mom under her wing a bit, since Mom was human. Akrem still couldn't explain that, but Mom had always said that Akrem was a gift from the Force. It seemed to be true, in more ways than one.

Amee had helped her with the other bits - the biological and the nutrition, and making sure Akrem had everything she needed.

But it was silly, to think that other Twi'lek would know Ryl, here. They weren't raised on Ryloth, or anything, they had all been taken as children and raised in the Temple.

It didn't really feel like home, at all, then. Not really. It was hard, harder than it maybe should have been, but she was okay.

She didn't hate them. Not really. She wanted nothing more for them to be nice to her, but even that was something she could deal with, since she would be moving past them. She didn't really have any friends. But she could handle having no friends when she was a Padawan - a real one, not this fake almost-one - but Obi-wan was away on missions a fair amount, and she didn't always see him.

He was, in so many ways, the perfect Jedi. Akrem was not.

She didn't hate them. Wanted desperately to be loved by them, in the absence of her mother's gentle, warm presence? Of course. Wished that the other kids around her age group included her? Yes, but she was nine years too late for that. And she wouldn't trade her mother for the world.

She might have too many feelings, but she didn't hate anyone. She just didn't want to be alone, anymore. And she was very, very afraid - not for herself, but for her mother, alone, far away, with only Watto as company. And Watto wasn't the worst kind of owner there was - not by a long shot - but he had bought her mother as part of the deal for Akrem. He had less use for Mom, than Akrem. Akrem could do numbers, and fix the junk. It wasn't a skill that her mother had in the same amount.

She worried. There was not a day that went by where she was not afraid for her mother.

But there was nothing she could do. Nothing that she could fix. No machine would fix this problem. Not for the first time, she wished she had finished the bomb-tracker.

It would have made her feel better, to know that her mother would be okay.

One day, she promised herself, she would return, and free her mother. She would.

And if that was a distraction, she found it hard to care.

* * *

Obi-wan shut the door of the room behind them. Akrem relaxed, a little, as the pressure of all the people around lessened a bit. The Temple was already isolated, but the pressure around her felt stifling.

Back home on Tatooine, the slave quarters were cramped and full of all kinds of negative emotion, but she had gotten used to the backdrop. The Temple, on the other hand, was odd. Full of people, but quiet, in a way that Mos Espa had never been. Instead, it was full of people, who did not feel the same way as others did.

Jedi, who released their emotions into the force. Who allowed them to flow, through, and out, and did not keep them for any longer. It was stark, like being exposed. She had always been used to the constant beating drum of the fear around her, and only realized just how present it was when she no longer had it.

It was odd, and here, she was the odd one out, no longer able to hide amongst the comfortable fear and upset as her surroundings. Her natural camouflage was no longer present, and thus, her color stood out.

But here, she was supposed to be spending this time with her teacher, and thus, she followed him into the meditation room.

"I understand you've been having trouble in mediation time."

"Yeah," she admitted. "Master Tiin uh, said that I was very bad at it yesterday."

He perched himself carefully on one of the small, padded stools, designed for mediation. "I understand. That's what I'm here to help you with," he explained. "I can watch you, more closely."

"You haven't been watching?" she asked, feeling a little bit hurt. It was okay, she reminded herself. It would have to be. She clambered up, across from him. Her legs fit much easier onto the wide space, and the fabric underneath felt soft. It was comfortable enough, and she didn't mind the silence.

"Peace, padawan. I've been on missions, more than I'd have liked."

"Why? Aren't you supposed to be my teacher?" She wasn't even trying to argue or anything, she just didn't get it.

"It's complicated, but I have my own missions. The Council hasn't taken me out of the rotation, because you've been in youngling classes. I'm hoping they will soon, and then we'll be more like Master and Padawan." He leaned forward, smiling.

She nodded, feeling a little like that was unfair, because he was supposed to be her teacher. But Palpatine had been really nice and understanding, so she felt better about that. And she would be okay without him. She was doing okay, learning more things.

"Okay," she agreed. "I am really good at the Force. Pienna said so. I'm done with that part already."

"Good," he said. "I noticed - you have an unusual skill for manipulating the Force directly, as far as I can tell. I'd have thought that would translate into skill at meditation."

"Sorry," she said. Another reason she wasn't living up to his expectations, then.

"It's not your fault," he admonished, gently, clear eyes shining. "I'm your Master. I'm supposed to be here, helping you figure these things out. And I haven't been. But I'm here now, and the fact that you're so good with the Force means that it's just something we've not figured out."

"Okay," she agreed.

"Good. I want to see you trying to meditate, then."

"I… um…" She glanced away. "I'm not very good."

"That's okay. If you're succeeding at something harder than meditation, that doesn't mean you're not capable. It just means that there's something we're missing."

She nodded. "Should I… er, start, then?"

"Whenever you're ready."

"I'm not so good at focusing on nothing," she said, feeling self-conscious. "Like, if there's something I need to do, I can do it. But when it's just sitting here, I don't know how to focus on anything."

"Well," he said, leaning back, and putting his arms in his sleeves, "It's not always about focusing on _anything,_ as much as it is clearing your mind of anything that might be distracting."

"I don't get it," Akrem admitted. "I try hard to think about nothing, but then I get distracted thinking about things."

"Try, for five minutes, please," he ordered. "Think about nothing. Control your breathing. As the Masters say, let your sense of the world around you ground you in the Force. Let it flow through you, like you are empty of anything, but the Force."

"I'm trying," Akrem admitted, frowning. She closed her eyes and thought about nothing. Well, she thought about the sensation in her legs, and how cold she felt - she always felt cold, now, here, on Coruscant. Nothing was quite like the heat of Tatooine. It wasn't quite space, but it was close enough.

And then she could hear the ventilation, the cool air pulsing, her own quiet breathing, the rustling of her lekku, as she adjusted them. They suddenly felt off, like she couldn't find a comfortable place that felt natural, no matter where she positioned them.

She fidgeted, and then some more.

"Hmmm," Obi-wan said, slowly. "I think I see. You might have more use from something like active meditation. I've been researching techniques. Most of the time, we introduce meditation like this from a young age, and thus, it's easy for everyone to use the same method. But back in the days of the older order, before the Ruusan Rebellions, we used to recruit Jedi older, more around the age that you are now. And thus, they used a number of different techniques."

He stood up, smiling. "So I've brought you this," he said, handing over, "a datapad."

"You want me to meditate with this?" she asked.

"Yes, but not in the way you're thinking," he admitted. "I want you to try and take it apart without thinking about anything else."

"I can do that, I think," she said. "Why would that help?"

"Because you might need that to actively meditate properly. Think active meditation, my young padawan."

"Okay," she said. She glanced over at him, and his concerned eyes. "Thanks, Master."

And for once, it wasn't something she hated to have to say.

"And Akrem," he added, folding his hands on his knees, "I do have some experience with Ryl. I've been training to learn it as part of my diplomatic focus."

"Oh," she said, quite taken aback. She hadn't expected it at all of him.

"I'm… acquaintances with Vos, Padawan Secura's master. He said something. I didn't know you knew any."

"Yeah," Akrem admitted, fiddling with a lekku. "I just - I had a woman. A former slave. My mother didn't know any, but she wanted me to learn something, since she… couldn't. I'd like to learn more, if that's okay."

"Of course it is," he said. "And Lekku, if you'd like to. Master Fisto, actually knows that language."

"Oh!" she said, surprised, thinking of his many colorful head tentacles. "I suppose he could learn it."

Obi-Wan smiled, softly. "It's quite useful, since it can be completely silent. But we can practice both, together, if you like."

"I would," she agreed. And it meant quite a bit, to her. He cared. Maybe not quite her mother had, but he did, in his own distant, clumsy way.

* * *

Akrem twisted in the night, letting her lekku fall over her neck. She was covered in sweat. The Dreams had come, again. Yoda had told her about them, that her dreams were strong, in the Force.

So why was it that her dreams were always nightmares? She didn't dare look, any deeper, but she knew that the future would be filled with pain.

But she couldn't dwell on that. All she could do is relax. And she wouldn't get any further with that.

She stood, and went back over to the small table that she'd put in, to work on making things. She flicked on the light, and picked up the slave bomb sensor. She would finish this, and a few hours of meditative tinkering might help her get back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story pretty much comes from reading the original draft of Star Wars by George Lucas and getting assmad about the absolute weirdness of it. Annikin Starkiller punches out a 14-year-old Leia for mouthing off to him and then three scenes later she wants to marry him. Weird shit, but who looked at that and thought they should make a movie out of it?
> 
> I also sort of hate everything Disney did with it, other than Baby Yoda - which was by all accounts, accidental. Edgy controversial opinion, I know. But I think fundamentally Disney is trying to market Star Wars to kids and the thing I like most about it is when it's being an adult story. And, of course, I can't seem to write about a character without them being a girl, and there are too many boring vanilla humans in Star Wars. Shmi can be human and have a Twi'lek baby because I said so. The Force is cheating already, so what's a little more.
> 
> Obi-Wan is a good dude. I don't dislike him, but I think fundamentally the Jedi are unequipped to talk about and deal with emotional issues that exist outside of the Temple upbringing. Which Akrem, as a slave, definitely has. That's the problem with taking children as babies, I suppose. Cue Palpatine. Next chapter is what little exists of Attack of the Clones. I'm skipping pretty much entirely Akrem's time as a padawan, because I can't be assed.


	2. Assassins

It took six months before Akrem finished the courses, and thus was allowed by the Council to become a "real" Padawan. Obi-Wan could tell how much that grated at her, particularly because she was diligent and worked hard. Her problem, of course, was Master Sennai and his endless demand for perfectionism.

It wasn't that she was unintelligent - she was beyond gifted, in most everything she did, and she had a hunger for knowledge that he could easily see as a result of her upbringing - it was that he was, if anyone bothered to ask Obi-Wan, a miserly old man who wanted nothing less than to humiliate Obi-Wan's padawan because she was different.

Of course, no one asked him that, so it was what it was.

It was not till three years later, that she was allowed to go on missions with him. Until then, she wasn't allowed anywhere outside of the Temple. Of course, that didn't stop her - he watched her sneak out, before following her, to make sure she didn't get into too much, but other than a few conversations with Twi'leks in the Undercity, she didn't do much, other than a few illegal swoop races. She won them all.

Considering the Boonta Eve, it wasn't like he wasn't expecting that, but it was still another thing entirely to witness her in action.

As to her skills, he could openly admit that she was far more talented and capable at that age than anyone else he'd ever seen. She had already been more impressive than most, when they'd taken her in, and it had only become more refined. Even just the podracing - the pure reaction times lent her an edge in lightsaber training, and her grasp of the Force was probably comparable to his, at this point. And, of course, the amount of pure potential - twenty thousand midichlorians were nothing to sneeze at.

She was simply the most talented Jedi he'd ever seen.

She learned things that took others years in weeks, and to her, _strength_ was never the issue. How could one person be so blessed with such a combination of traits? She was always ahead. She could calculate things in her head he couldn't solve with an hour and a datapad. She could do things with the Force he didn't even know were possible. And she picked up a lightsaber like she was born to it.

And there were so many droids, in their apartments. Droids that could do anything and everything, or ones that could do three things, or were optimized in some unrealistic ways.

And to his eternal, everlasting shame, he found himself resenting her the slightest bit for it. What did she need him for? What was the point? He hadn't asked to take on a student. It was Qui-Gon that had requested it, as he'd lay dying from a fatal wound.

What else could he have said? He had to. And that was how he found himself frustrated, trying to find new Force techniques to teach her, more ways to refine them. She had an insatiable appetite, to the point where he watched her go to the Archives and peruse the records of old Jedi long dead and their manipulations of the Force.

She spent hours in the training halls, working on her lightsaber training until she could no longer stand, until he could admit that she was very skilled, even if her youth meant that she had no chance of piercing his Soresu. He saw her preference for a mix of styles, more than a singular mastery - all of them aggressive, incorporating elements of Djem So, Shien, Ataru and Makashi all together. Like everything else, she was versatile and skilled.

But she was ready. He was sure of it.

* * *

Twelve-year-old Akrem stood, shivering, in the cool darkness of Ilum. The cave entrance loomed in front of her, dark and foreboding.

"Go, Akrem," Obi-Wan ordered. "I'll make a fire, and I'll be ready, when you get back to the ship."

She nodded, and stepped into the cave. The heavy coat didn't feel quite enough, even if the deep hood almost completely covered her, and she wore a thick wool glove over her lekku, underneath, and many layers of warm clothing.

She could see her breath puffing out, in little wisps, as she stepped into the cave. She was expecting it to be darker, but it oddly wasn't. The crystals themselves were luminescent, with soft ephemeral glows emanating all around her.

The cave was deep, deeper. The Force beckoned her onward, like a playful puppy, bounding a head and waiting up to see if she was following. She was ready, but she couldn't see why these crystals were different from the others.

The Force would know, if nothing else did. That was often the way of things.

She crept deeper into the cave.

As she traveled, the crystals got larger and larger, and the cave sloped downwards. The silence thickened, until she could see deposits larger than her entire room, back at the Temple.

Then, the footsteps started. Like she was being followed. A long, echoing sound, heavy boots, crunching in the snow. Crunching, crunching, ever crunching.

And breathing. Low, echoing breaths, resounding off the crystals around her. In, out. In, out.

She stopped, and looked behind her. Back, in the thin lighting, a tall figure, in black, with a robe, or a cape, metal glinting off their armor.

In, out. Crunching, crunching, in out. And, of course, that was when they activated their lightsaber.

Their very red lightsaber.

The soft blue light of the cave changed, and it was purple-red, angry and terrifying and she found her fear spike. Heart in her throat, she ran.

In out, crunching crunching. The sounds were louder, now, the breathing labored, and the footsteps harder, deeper, like they were running now. A glance behind and she was being chased, further, faster, and she was ducking under crystals and around corners.

Over and over, until her lungs burned with the pain and the pressure and the cold air was like a spike, directly into her chest, and she knew that she could not win by running.

And then she ran into something, and bounced off, a jarring impact that sent her tumbling, head over heels, bones aching with the vibrations. Her breath was coming in sharp pants, lungs still burning with pain.

She looked up.

The figure was there, dark, silhouetted against the purplish light of the chamber, red blade glowing.

Its breathing was loud, in her ears. In, out.

"No matter how hard you run, you must face it. All roads lead to _me_." The voice was low, lower than she'd expected, and sounded mechanical, like it was scrambled through a vocoder. A head tilted forward, and the mask was a black leering skull, the helm shining in the half-light. And then it was smooth again, and the shadows flickered.

"No," she whispered. "You're not real."

A deep, labored breath.

"It is your… _destiny_."

"I won't! I can't!"

"You are! You will! The second you swore to the Jedi, the second you landed on this planet, this became your future. You _cannot avoid it_." In, out.

In, out.

In, out.

Akrem summoned her will. This wasn't real. This was a trick. This was the only way through, the only way to succeed at this trial. She made herself calm, made herself ignore the vision of whatever this darksider was.

And when she opened her eyes, the small formation of crystals was sitting in front of her, speaking to her.

A clear blue, the tallest one on the left stood out. She reached out, and grabbed it.

Then she glanced at the rest of them, and fled.

* * *

The doors chimed open, and Padmé dimly noted it. She was still engrossed in the report, on the most recent planets to have seceded from the Republic - Sluis Van, Tynna, and Tantra. It was troubling. It was easy to think of the Republic as a massive, untouchable beast, but the more planets that left, the weaker it became.

It was no longer just a handful of planets - it was a significant percentage. Every month, and more would join the Separatists. They were losing time - this could not continue forever. There was more to be done.

She wasn't really taking in the numbers. She was still thinking about how someone had attempted to have her killed.

Something was rotten in the Senate. Someone had done this. She had enemies, she knew that - and more than most. But this was more. Could it have been Dooku? He didn't seem the type, and Master Windu had seemed so very sure, but she wondered.

Dormé knocked, harshly, at her door. Her handmaiden and confidant looked at her with grave eyes.

"The Jedi are here, Senator."

"Thank you, Dormé," Padmé said. She set aside the datapad, ran a quick hand over her dress to ensure she was presentable, and stepped out into the receiving room. Jar Jar was there, talking to the two Jedi - one human, one Twi'lek, both tall and professional-looking in the robes of their order. She forced a smile.

Then she recognized Obi-Wan, and her smile became genuine. "Master Kenobi," she greeted, warmly.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, m'lady," he said, smiling. He was unshaven, the beginnings of a beard on his face. It was a look - she couldn't say it was a great one, since he clearly needed to commit in either direction, but he was a handsome man, nonetheless.

She eyed his companion, finding herself chuckling. She'd still only met one Twi'lek with that skin color.

"Is that you, little Remi?" she asked. "My goodness, you've grown." And it was true - she was no longer the thin, underfed little girl that had saved Padmé in her moment of need. Now, she was tall - taller than Obi-Wan, and just as slim. Her robes were thicker, less regulation, in a darker shade of brown that highlighted her stormcloud skin and with a white faux-fur collar around the hood. But she'd matured into a slender, long-fingered grace and an arresting pair of endless blue eyes.

The kind of eyes that a girl could get lost in.

Remi nodded, smiling, perfectly white teeth showing. "Hello, Padmé. I hope you've been well." Her voice was low, soft, and compelling.

Padmé was currently attempting to make her brain work with her mouth, but that wasn't happening, at the moment. She gaped. This wasn't the shy little girl she'd met ten years ago.

"I uh, quite like your braid," she admitted.

"Oh?" Remi said, one finger lightly stroking the bright, multicolored chain woven over her lekku. "This is my padawan braid, actually."

Padmé blushed.

"Our presence will be invisible, m'lady," Obi-Wan said, interjecting.

"I'm very grateful you're here, Master Kenobi," Captain Typho, the head of her security, said. "The situation is more dangerous than the Senator will admit."

Padmé bristled, at that. "I understand that the Chancellor wants me protected," she said, tightly. "And I'm grateful for any help you can give. But I also need to know who is behind this."

"Is that not our mandate?" Remi asked, softly.

"The Council has directed me to protect her, only."

"And not to find out the source? Is it not easier to plug a leak, rather than mop up the water? Protection is a job for local security - no offense intended, Captain - not for Jedi. In the past, we have gone for the source of such things."

"Exactly," Padmé declared.

"Now is not the time for this," Obi-Wan said, firmly. An edge had entered his voice. "We will do as the Council instructed - no more, no less, young one."

Padmé didn't need the Force to tell how unhappy Remi was with that, but she nodded, and folded her hands behind her back. Her heart went out to the girl - she agreed, but neither of them could really argue with Obi-Wan when he was like this. Qui-Gon had been the same way.

"Well, perhaps, merely by your presence, the assassins will disappear," Padmé declared. She nodded to both. "Now, if you will pardon me, I shall retire."

She swept out of the room, then.

* * *

The room was dark, and the silence was almost complete. Akrem had insisted only once, during the protection of the Senator. She only needed to look at R2-D2, the exceptional astromech droid from before. She remembered him, now that she thought about it. He was clever, resourceful and inquisitive.

She had to wonder just what made him that way. It was something that had fascinated her. All droids outwardly might have seemed to be programmed the same. Between iterations, at least, the quirks in the code did not seem to be that major. What made a droid that failed, and what made a droid that succeeded?

When she had made C-3PO, she had attempted to make him the best interpreter she could. He was skilled in other things, of course, but his skill was translation - a hard thing, and deeply contextual. And hard to program. So instead, she focused on giving him creativity. But even then, how did one apparently random astromech droid have the same amount of creativity that her son, who she'd spent years refining his programming, did?

Why?

She wondered.

And in wondering, she meditated.

She could feel him before she heard him. Obi-Wan stepped into the room.

"Master," she said. Ten years ago, she had problems calling him that. He understood, and had even allowed her not to, but she had taken it up as a sign of respect. She did respect him, a great deal, but she did not always agree. "I apologize for my disrespect, earlier."

"It's not necessary, young one," he replied, evenly. "I understand your feelings. I, too, feel as if there is more to our assignment. But I must do as the Council says."

And that was the rub - Obi-Wan was a man who felt bound by his obligations. Perhaps it was her unusual upbringing, or perhaps Qui-Gon was more of an influence on her than him. But she didn't agree. They were Jedi. They had the duty to uphold justice, in the galaxy, not simply follow orders.

"I understand."

"Captain Typho has more than enough men downstairs. No assassin will try that way." He glanced at the door. "Any activity up here?"

"None," Akrem said.

He checked the cameras. "Fine. I still don't like that neither of us is in there with her."

"She insisted. Her droid is scanning for intruders." Akrem folded her arms. "I can monitor almost as well out here."

"I don't like it," he said, frowning.

"Of course you don't," she muttered. "But this was the senator's idea. She seems intent on catching them in the act."

"It's reckless, and too risky."

Akrem nodded. "It is reckless, but she was reckless ten years go, was she not? She would not likely be the target she is if she was less risky."

"Hmm," Obi-Wan mused, eyeing her. "You're not wrong. But I still don't approve of this."

"Then by all means, please do go in there," Akrem said, mildly. The Force huffed at that statement, a little, like it was amused. "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

She checked her pad. "The droid reports nothing unusual. Still, it might be time to check it out." She held a hand out to her side, gesturing him in. "The Force is nudging me. Better safe than sorry, yes?"

"As you said, my young padawan." He led the way into the door.

The room inside was dark, but the ever-present light of Coruscant still cast shadows on the bed, the window, the form bundled up among sheets.

The droid sat in the corner, lights on, inactive.

Obi-Wan flicked into motion, blue beam of light flicking over the seats. Akrem felt the monsters die, underneath it, and her eye caught the motion of a droid, detaching from the window and turning to flee.

 _No_. She reached out a hand, and grasped it, tightly, with the Force. It shuddered, and careened in through the window. Amidala woke with a scream, at the shattering of her window, but Akrem could not pay attention, because the droid was still resisting, engines whining gently in an undertone.

She let the Force flow, faster, pulling it closer, until she could hold onto it, tightly. A quick loosening of the screws, and it was coming apart, engines and propulsion separate from the processor. She unhooked them, and it stopped resisting, gently coming down to rest on the edge of the bed.

Someone had flicked the light on, and she looked up. The senator had huddled into the sheets, and Obi-Wan was standing over her protectively. At least he'd turned off his lightsaber.

The captain, two guards and a handmaiden burst in, and took in the scene.

"My Lady!" the captain exclaimed.

"Captain," Padmé Amidala said, neutrally. "It appears that our Jedi are on top of things."

Akrem carefully levitated a container of more worms. "The droid is a rare model. Modified, which is unfortunate."

"The threat seems to be gone for now. The assassin was never here. They only sent a droid," Obi-wan declared. He gave Amidala a stern look. "No danger, is it?"

She huffed, and drew the sheets around her more tightly. "Do you mind not intruding on my bedchamber?"

The handmaiden drew herself up, in something like outrage. Akrem was examining components, carefully. There were a number of standard ones, but the droid itself was an unusual design. Probably custom-made, which was a strong lead. And the combination of a venomous insect with other more conventional method of assassination spoke to a distinctive style.

"You are awfully cavalier about all of this," Akrem remarked, eyes flicking over to Padmé. "Someone paid someone else very competent to try to kill you, and they likely would have succeeded. You only have so many decoys, after all."

A hiss, and the senator met her eyes, fury echoing in that brown. "How dare you."

"Padawan!" Her Master scolded, and she glared challengingly back at him.

"Forgive me, Senator Amidala, Master," she bit out. The fact was that her callous disregard for the woman that had died for her just this morning was somewhat insulting, to Akrem. Seven people had died. This was not the time to worry about things like privacy or dignity.

"This assassin will not stop," the Captain, Typho, warned.

Akrem felt vindicated by the agreement, but the droid was far too fascinating to stop poking at. She drowned out the rest of the chatter. She gathered the chipset, and went over to the R2 droid.

"Can you scan this?"

He beeped an affirmative, and his sensor whirred. Her pad beeped, as the data scrolled across it. She flicked through it, reading. A number of contracts, and a manufacturing date. The Malkite Poisoners, huh? That explained the poison. That was rare, and this list of contracts.

She ran a program, for trawling the HoloNet.

Obi-Wan was at her shoulder. "Find anything?"

"Likely," she admitted. "It might take some slicing, but for now I'm just trawling. It's a lead, though."

"Okay," he admitted. "Can you follow up?"

"Me?" she asked. Suddenly the rest of the room was looking at her.

Obi-Wan smiled, softly. "For tonight, I mean. Take it out to the antechamber, and keep an eye out. I don't expect anything much. The assassin's not likely to come back, and we need a name, if nothing more."

"Of course, Master." She looked at the rest of the party. The senator and her handmaiden were both glaring, but the chief of security looked happy. "I'll get right on that." She glanced at the astromech droid. "Thanks, Artoo."

"Good," he said. "Go, then. They might vanish, and we want that trail."

She grinned. "So you agree. Finding the killer is part of the mission."

"Enough backtalk."

Akrem bowed, and gathered the remains of the assassin droid. "By your leave, Senator."

Padmé Amidala narrowed her eyes, and nodded, regally.

Akrem nodded at Typho, and went.

* * *

Bounty hunters were, by definition, not particularly easy to find. That was kind of the point. One could look through their guild, but that was the easiest way to find them.

Akrem was looking for a bounty hunter because she needed to know who hired them. She doubted it would be spice traders from the moons of Naboo, frankly. Thus, contacting the Guild and asking wasn't likely to get her anywhere. Her program didn't turn up much - just a few hits. It was time to slice into the Guild or the Poisoners. They were probably a similar level of difficulty, but the Guild was more likely to have a local office. Or - she glanced up at Obi-Wan, who'd taken position in the room again.

"Your friend, Dex," she said, offhand. "Would he know about bounty hunters?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "He might."

"Well, I've got a trail of bounties and a remarkable custom assassin droid," she explained. "I can try and trace this droid, or the things it's done, but that requires some slicing. And he's a pretty useful source for you."

"I can go see him tomorrow," he said. "Is that all you can learn?"

"From this droid, yes." She put it down, and drew back, perching herself on the couch. They were back in the greeting room of the apartment, where the senator would receive visitors.

"I see. In the morning, I'll contact the Council. I expect they'll ask me to track the assassins."

"Understood."

He folded his arms in the dim light. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"What?"

His wary amusement trickled through the Force. "It means that you'll likely need to escort the Senator offword, and protect her."

"I expect it won't be, as long as she listens to reason," Akrem said, evenly.

"I mean, you weren't exactly nice to her, back there. I thought you two were friends."

Akrem looked down at her hands, feeling oddly guilty. "She was kind to me ten years ago. It's been a long time since then."

"Something is bothering you, my young Padawan."

"It's the assassination," Akrem admitted, reaching up to fiddle with a lekku. "Perhaps you were right, Master. She is a politician. And she didn't seem to take the threat all that seriously, when seven people who she worked with were killed by the assassin earlier today."

Obi-Wan looked startled. "The politicians of the Senate are too often concerned more with re-election and lining their pockets than accurately representing their constituents," he said. It was a common refrain with him.

Akrem nodded. "I don't disagree with you," she said, mildly. "But Senator Amidala always struck me as one of the better representatives of that profession. Not unlike the Chancellor. Now, Orn Free Taa, on the other hand…"

She trailed off.

"Look underneath the surface," he advised. "And individuals are complicated."

"The Senator is a beacon of hope, to many," she said, to herself. "But perhaps that is deliberately cultivated."

"We're here to guard her, not judge her."

"And I won't let any of my feelings get in the way of my duty," Akrem declared. She smiled at him. "And I'm not the one that distrusts politicians by default."

He frowned. "Keep it in mind."

"I shall, Master."

* * *

They stood in front of the Council, before the highest authority of the Jedi Order. The sun in Coruscant shone down on her, glaring like an unhappy old Council Master, not unlike the plethora of unhappy old Council Masters arranged in front of them. For the advanced center of the galaxy, the harshness of the setting sun always struck Akrem as odd, though the tinted windows did help.

And she would be lying to herself if it didn't remind her, in some small way, of Tatooine.

"And you found the identity?"

"We have not," Obi-Wan reported. Beside her, he was cool, and reassuring, a steady presence in the Force.

"But you've found something," Master Ki-Adi-Mundi said. The statement was not a question.

"Yes," Akrem said, fiddling with one of her devices. The bright holographic display projected outwards in a list of everything she could find: assassinations, armaments, sources. Some were redacted, but there was enough to identify a trail of kills across the galaxy. "This bounty hunter is almost certainly behind the attacks."

"Find this criminal, you must," Master Yoda said.

"And more importantly, who he's working for," Master Mace Windu agreed.

"But what about the Senator?" Obi-Wan asked. "She will still need protection."

Akrem was not looking forward to what was coming next, but she resigned herself to it.

"Perhaps you can stay with her," Master Windu said, slowly. Akrem's gaze snapped to him in shock. "Your padawan has found all the clues so far, and we believe she is ready." His gaze flicked between them.

"Hmmm." Master Yoda's scrutinizing gaze fell on her. "Feel ready for this, do you, young Skywalker?"

Akrem nodded, smiling grimly. "If my Master believes I am," she said, bowing to him.

Obi-Wan looked at her, calm blue eyes steady. He chuckled.

"Well, I worry," he admitted. "But I defer to the Council on this. It wouldn't be your first solo assignment, and you have proven yourself quite capable."

"Hmmm," the wizened old Grandmaster said. "Unsure of this, I am. But perhaps, rubbed off on me, your old Master has."

Mace Windu snorted. "With your blessing, Knight Kenobi, we will assign you to Amidala's protection, and your padawan to track the killer." He turned to her. "Akrem. Do you understand what it is that we are asking you?"

"Yes, Masters. I am to find this bounty hunter, and discover the motive behind the assassinations."

"Then go. Both of you. And Akrem - report to us, and report to your Master, the second you learn anything."

She nodded, slowly, and looked to Obi-Wan. He bowed, and she followed suit, and they left the chamber.

The second the doors closed behind them, she turned to him. "What was that?"

He turned to her with a slow smile. "Come, now, it might not have been my idea, but it's a solid idea. You can do this." His sincerity shone through the Force, as he spoke, and for a moment, she didn't quite believe that it was real. "Isn't this the opportunity you've been waiting for?"

"It has. It's been what I've wanted for a long time."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I didn't think you thought I was ready."

"Of course you are," he said. "You're an impressive Jedi, Akrem."

She nodded. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try and keep a summary of important terms in the end-notes. Other than that, we see the ripples. I skipped Akrem spending time with Obi-Wan as a padawan, because I didn't want to write it. She also gets the nod earlier, rather than Anakin, because I think she'd be somewhat more emotionally mature and I didn't want to just re-write Attack of the Clones.
> 
> Lightsaber forms:  
> Form I: Shii-Cho : basic, foundational form focused on wide, disarming strikes and used against many opponents  
> Form II: Makashi : focused, tight form based on lightsaber dueling. think fencing. Dooku uses this.  
> Form III: Soresu : defense-focused. Obi-Wan uses this.  
> Form IV: Ataru : acrobatics/dodging focused, but aggressive. Yoda uses this.  
> Form V: Shien : strength-focused. variant form is called Djem So, based on ripostes. Ahsoka uses Shien, Akrem specializes in Djem So.  
> Form VI: Niman : jack of all trades/hybrid form.  
> Form VII: Juyo : aggressive, dark-side form. Maul uses this. Mace Windu uses a variant called Vaapad.


	3. Bounty Hunters

The view from the Chancellor's office was somehow always less than what she'd expected, for the center of the galaxy. Lower.

"Of course I will speak to her," Palpatine said, smiling in the corner of her eye. "Trust me, I think I know Senator Amidala quite well. And she will not refuse an executive order."

"Thank you," Akrem said, smiling.

"And you, my young padawan, we have to talk about _you_." He threw out his hands. "You are finally getting the respect you deserve."

"Obi-Wan believes I am ready for it," she said, evenly.

"And doesn't it feel _good_?" he asked. "Mark my words, Akrem, you will be the most powerful Jedi I have ever seen. I am privileged to be your friend."

"No," she disagreed. This was the Chancellor - a famous, history-making chancellor, who would be remembered for generations to come. "I am honored to have your friendship."

"You are almost certainly going to be more powerful than Master Yoda, when you come into your own," he declared.

She glanced away. It was something else, to have him say it. She knew that he wouldn't say it without meaning it.

"Thank you," she repeated.

"I'll speak to dear Padmé," he promised, making shooing motions. "Now! Don't let me keep you! I can't wait to hear of your success!"

"As you wish," she said, bowing.

And she left.

* * *

From Dex, she had a name. A Zam Wessell. Then all she needed to do was look.

Zam Wessell had a list of aliases, and an account under one of them on Coruscant. She'd arrived on the planet in the last week.

And then she had a ship. And from the ship, she had a way to a berth. Still full.

She walked around the docks, feeling, oddly, like a true Jedi. It felt almost hollow, however. Obi-Wan's absence was notable, in its silence. He'd always had something to say. But even if it was unwelcome, it was still there.

The dock was a long thing, mostly empty, the jagged pieces of infrastructure looming on every corner. Boxes and crates and piles of junk dogged every other step. She could feel the Force, poking at her, urging her to hurry it up. Time was of the essence. She did, stepping more quickly, as she walked.

She reached 334 as soon as a dark shape was disappearing behind a small, sleek, black craft. It looked like an insect, with a wide cockpit and wings behind it. The bay was small and cramped, and the ship had been maneuvered into the space with no small amount of skill.

Time to go, then.

A minute later, and a bounty hunter in a helm and a lightly armored purple jumpsuit appeared around the corner of the ship.

Akrem's lightsaber was dangerously close to her chest.

"No sudden moves."

The bounty hunter looked down at the saber, and then at Akrem, and then she went for her blaster.

Akrem was quicker.

Her arm flopped to the ground, still holding the blaster. She crumpled, following it. Akrem leaned down and propped her up on one of the landing arms.

"Next time, it's your head. Now, I have questions."

Behind the veil, the woman's eyes were narrowed in hate and pain.

"Good. I'll know if you'll lie. So, you know who you tried to kill last night, right?"

A nod.

"Say it."

"The - the senator from Naboo."

"Good. Now, who hired you?"

"A bounty hunter named Jango Fett," she said, grunting in pain.

"Where can I find him?" she asked.

"I don't know."

" _Liar_ ," she hissed. "Tell me what I want to know."

Wessell closed her eyes. "Damnit."

Akrem said nothing.

"Kamino," she said. "He's got a deal there. Some kind of arrangement with the cloners. They're using his DNA or something. Just - _fuck_ \- just tell him I'm dead."

"And you're walking away from Amidala," she added.

"Fine."

"Good. Now's the time to run," Akrem said, and lifted her blade.

And she walked away. If she kept a tight grip on the Force, to make sure that she wasn't shot in the back, that wasn't anyone's business but her own.

* * *

Kamino didn't exist.

Her first assignment, three hours in, and the _fucking_ planet she was looking for didn't exist. Wessell hadn't lied. Or had she? The Archives didn't have it. She was panicking. Of course this was going wrong.

She spent half a minute going over everything in her head. She had _a_ location, maybe not a good one, but one nonetheless. There was just no planet list in the Archives. Which was supposed to have every planet in the galaxy.

Well, she _could_. It was _possible_. She just had to go out and check.

The thing that made her hesitate, however, was the fact that it was equally possible that she could just go out there and… not find it all.

That would be truly embarrassing, and it would be obvious that she didn't know what she was doing. Master Windu would give her the Look, and ask why she had gone to a void of space, alone. A dead end. Any chance of Knighthood would vanish, like the wind.

Sitting in her room in the Temple, she asked the Force. _Was it worth going?_

Gambling it all? What would she find? Yes. Yes it was. Right now.

She was plotting her course when she realized that Tatooine was en-route. The Force nudged her, like a puppy demanding her hand, and she realized that maybe this was why it was so insistent that she go to Kamino.

There was something she had to do. Her mother was in danger. The dreams - they were _real_ , not just dreams.

She was late.

* * *

Akrem stepped out of the ship, onto the cliffs of Tatooine. Down below, a camp of Sand People lay. She knew that her mother was there. She had not bothered with asking Watto or anything of the sort. She knew now that the dreams she'd been having were no mere dreams. They were visions of the Force - of her mother in terrible, terrible pain.

She couldn't quite contain just how angry that made her. Obi-Wan, in true Jedi fashion, had told her that her dreams were merely a symptom of her _attachment_ , and thus, not real - and had stopped her from looking for her mother. That was the problem with their self-righteousness. To them, attachments like family weren't real. They didn't understand them like she did. And thus, they could never understand her. Not even her Master, or the Council truly could.

Now, standing on the surface, she could feel so very clearly just how real the threat was. Real enough that it had found her, half a galaxy away, and plagued her sleep for weeks.

Damn it. Damn them all.

She set off towards the camp, winding her way down the cliffside. The heat of the desert might have been a relief, once, but now, she found it annoying. She had grown up here, so she had always felt comfortable on Tatooine in a way that she did not on most other planets. Space felt freezing, and even Coruscant was far colder than she'd have liked, hence her thick robes and fur-lined hood.

But here, she could shuck the cloak and walk in the thin top, baggy pants, and warm boots she wore underneath.

She found her mother in a thick tent, digging under the flap at the back. With her skill in the Force, the Tuskens were easy to evade. Inside, her mother was laying, half-delirious, in the flickering light of the fire.

Akrem kept a tight lid on her rage, on everything that she felt, here and now. She needed her mother, and her mother needed her.

Shmi's eyes opened, just barely, dark hair matted with blood where the color had faded. Cuts covered her face, and arms, and the dress she wore was soaked with filth. She was just a shadow in the force, against the heady pulsing of her pain.

Akrem leaned in. "Mother," she whispered gently.

Her mother blinked, once, twice, her eyes unfocused. "Remi?" she asked, softly. A gentle hand came up, and stroked her cheek.

"Mother," Akrem choked out, tears blurring her eyes.

"Oh, Remi. You've grown so."

"I have," she said. "But you - I'm so sorry. I should have been here before. But I - I was foolish. I trusted the Jedi, instead of myself."

"Remi," Shmi repeated. Her voice was weak, weaker. Her presence in the force was wavering. "You've grown so beautiful."

"You need help, mom." Akrem leaned down, focusing herself. It was not easy, but she'd spent a week picking apart what they did in the halls of healing. She focused herself, concentrated. Healing was not easy, but it was possible. And she was very skilled with the Force.

She pushed a bit of that warm light into Shmi, and she could feel it taking hold. For a moment, she had dire, desperate hope, but it died, at Shmi's pained smile.

"I just wanted to see you again," her mother whispered. "Just once… and now." Her voice became stronger, for a moment, and she opened her eyes. Her gaze was clear, and she smiled, softly, at Akrem. "Now I can be happy."

"I won't let you die," Akrem whispered. "I won't."

"I'm afraid that my time is up," Shmi said, softly, blood staining her teeth. "It's alright. It will be alright. Tell Cliegg and Owen and Beru… how much I love them. And you, my special, talented daughter. I love you, and I always will."

"No." But her eyes were closing, her light fading. "No!" No matter how much Akrem pushed through herself, no matter how desperate she became, nothing mattered. "NO!" The light of her mother was a whisper, a thin, thin echo, and then it was gone.

And then she was alone. All alone amongst the Sand People, in their camp. Their camp where they did nothing but torture innocents, for no reason other than pride.

It was a disgusting culture, for a disgusting people. She looked down at her mother's body, empty of all it had been. And then she gently laid it down to rest. She would return. Her mother deserved better than to be buried amongst this _filth_.

She discarded her earlier hopes. Instead, she only had room for rage. She stepped out of the tent. Almost as if she was flexing, she shed the calm, gentle serenity of the Jedi, like a snake shedding old skin. Beneath it, there was only hatred. Pure, and simmering. Hatred for this place, for these people.

It was power, the cool, darkness of a thunderstorm, roiling beneath her skin. It was like she was overflowing, like a supercharged hyperdrive, like a lightsaber humming with untapped energy, the current of a podracer, balancing the engines.

She was invincible. She was unstoppable. The Dark was hers, grasped tightly in her fist, and she would take everything it offered and more.

The guards perked up, and a pulse of pure hatred sent their heads spinning, on their necks, snapping them in a heartbeat.

More guards came, and the camp was up, shortly, shouting. She raised her hands, and activated her lightsaber.

She would purge them, like they deserved.

* * *

The chime came, and Owen went to answer it. He was cautious, particularly with his mother missing. Who knew who it could have been? The atmosphere was different, since she was gone. There was an undercurrent of wariness, of fear, of the fact that they could come back at any time.

His father had gone out, with thirty men from the surrounding farms, and they'd come back with four.

It was not a good time, in the Lars homestead.

He stepped up to the surface of the home, to greet their guest. Beru was making sure his father was comfortable - settling him down, to sleep.

The sun was setting, and he ascended the stairs. A tall, dark shape was there, long robes blowing in the wind, a thin body clutched in the folds.

"Hello," He called. "I'm Owen Lars. Can I help you?"

The figure turned, large hood flopping back. A dark-skinned Twi'lek, oddly enough. With bloodshot blue eyes, dark circles under them like bruises, wearing thin desert robes. A bundle, wrapped in what looked like a fine, wool blanket, was cradled protectively in her arms.

"You lived with Shmi Skywalker," she said. It was not a question. She had a low voice, husky.

"Shmi?" he echoed. How odd, to find someone like this. "Not - right now. She was taken. But before that, she was my mother."

"I know," the strange woman said. "Mine, too. I'm Akrem."

"Akrem," he repeated, numbly. "You're Akrem?"

"Yes." She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they were filled with tears. "I'm so sorry it took me so long to come. I was too late. But I brought her home."

His mouth worked soundlessly. "Her? Mom?" He was crying too, he realized, as he looked at the way she held the bundle - with reverence.

"Yes." She bowed, careful with her burden. "Was she happy? Here?"

"I think so," he said. "Would you - would you like to come in?"

"I ought to," she agreed. "I am ashamed that it took this long to come. I - this was my fault."

"No," he told her. "You couldn't have known."

By her lack of an answer, he could tell she didn't believe him.

* * *

Akrem found herself without patience on Kamino. Perhaps, if she'd been more patient, her anger might not have boiled over.

The clones were slaves. And Akrem might have seen that for what it was, but the Kaminoans did not seem to have the same compunctions. They were slavers - maybe worse, because they were cloning slaves.

But she wasn't a Jedi Master. She wasn't in charge. But it looked to her like the Jedi Council were a bunch of hypocrites. So she'd smiled, and thanked them, as she would any slaver. Yes, she wanted to meet Jango Fett. No, these products looked great. The Council would certainly be pleased.

Inside, she seethed with betrayal. This was going great. She knew that she shouldn't tap into the Dark Side of the Force, but it was just her seething contempt drowning everything else out. Their desire for her to let go of her own attachment to her mother - which had led to her death. Their purchase of slaves, while claiming to defend the Republic, and everything it stood for.

She didn't know what to think. But she blinked, and that strange, predatory thunderstorm was back, stretching across her shoulders like a savage, half-feral pet.

Thus, she was the picture of calm as she stepped into Jango Fett's room, as the scarred bounty hunter looked at her, and saw something in her face, in her voice, in her walk.

"Welcome back, Jango," Taun We said, oblivious to the tension. "Was your trip productive?"

"Somewhat." A lie. It had been a failure, but Akrem knew that already.

"This is Jedi Master Akrem Skywalker. She's here to check on our progress."

"That so?" he asked. He writhed in the Force, turmoil obvious to Akrem. He was frightened, and tense, and he knew exactly why she was here.

"Among other things," she said, smiling grimly. Hopefully he'd give her an excuse, to hurt him. At this point, he was just as much of a slaving piece of trash as the rest of them.

As the Sand People. What were a few more bodies?

"I'm just a simple man trying to make his way in the universe, Master Jedi," he said, loosely.

"I'm sure you are." Her smile turned nasty. "I'm sure you won't mind sticking around, then, if the Council has questions."

His gaze lingered, on her face. "I've got business."

"I'm not asking," she said.

"Are you not pleased, with the clones, Master Jedi?" Taun We asked, oblivious. For a brief, damning second, Akrem considered choking the oblivious bitch for her stupidity, before her sense reasserted herself. She needed to meditate. She needed _something._

Then she realized she needed to say something. "Perfectly. But we do have some questions for our good friend Jango, here."

His eyes flicked to his… clone? Son? One of those, anyway. She didn't much care. But he clearly did. She put her hand on her lightsaber, and eyed him, meaningfully.

He got the hint. "Sure. I'll stick around," he promised.

"Good." She turned to go.

She wasn't about to call him on the lie. But they both knew it was one.

* * *

The call, to the Masters - and oh, how that term had managed to come full circle - came right after.

Akrem still didn't have the time to meditate that she wanted - she would get that in hyperspace. Since coming here, she had _some_ time, but it wasn't nearly enough, after Tatooine. After knowing just how much it had cost her, to be a Jedi. Kamino was proving to be another trial.

The crackling, simmering fury _crawled_ at the edges of her vision, but she was calm. Calm enough, at least.

The faces of Yoda, Mace Windu, and Obi-Wan came crackling into view, as she sat in the cockpit of the starfighter.

She eyed them, carefully. She had to control what she said, if nothing else.

"Were you ever going to tell all of us about the clone army?" she asked.

"Clone army?" Windu repeated. "What clone army?"

"Akrem," Obi-Wan scolded, harshly. "You'll refer to the Council with _respect_."

She glowered. "The Kaminoans have grown a clone army for the Republic, commissioned by a Jedi," she spat. "Sifo-Dyas, his name was. _Tell me that's not true_."

"If commission an army, Master Sifo-Dyas did," Yoda said, gently. "On his own, it was. Agree to this, the Council did not. In the Senate right now, the issue of the Republic Army is."

A flush of hot shame trickled down her neck. She took a deep breath.

"The Kaminoans think otherwise," she hissed, trying to wrest that deep, furious, roiling power down.

"Take a deep breath, Akrem," Obi-Wan urged. "Focus."

"Let go," Windu said. "Your conduct is unbecoming of a Jedi."

As if she didn't know that. Like she didn't realize just how compromised she was - what a poor Jedi she'd turned out to be.

"Blind, we are, if the development of this clone army we did not see," Yoda admitted. "Condoned it, we would not have."

She nodded, and tamped down her feelings, trying for calm.

"I've tracked the assassin," she said. "The original attacks were by a woman named Zam Wessell, who was hired by a man named Jango Fett. He's on Kamino. I'm going to bring him back."

"Good, this is," Yoda replied, slowly. "Discovered the source of this attack, have you?"

"No," she denied, reaching up to rub at her forehead. "I asked, but he didn't say anything." Her eyes flicked over all three of them. "He's going to run."

"Bring him in," Mace Windu ordered. "And we'll find out the truth from there."

"Understood," she said.

"And padawan. You are a Jedi. Act like one. Let it go."

She nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.

"Anger, no matter how righteous, is the path to the Dark Side," Yoda cautioned, and with a firm nod, he and Windu signed off.

"Akrem, you can't just disrespect the Council like that. At this rate, you'll never be ready," Obi-Wan lectured.

"You'll have to forgive me, _Master_ ," she drawled, fury leaking into her tone. "But for a second, I really thought that the Jedi Order had commissioned an army of hundreds of millions of _slaves_."

"We would never," he shot back.

"And yet you all want to be called _Master_. And no one seems all that focused on ending slavery. Must be that the Senate's not interested in ending slavery, because _half of them are making money off it_!" she yelled, into the speaker.

A silence echoed, between them, the only sound the constant raindrops on the ship's cockpit. Akrem was breathing hard, she realized.

"Forgive me, I'm a little high-strung."

"We will talk about this later," he cautioned. "For now, make sure this bounty hunter doesn't get away."

"Of course."

"Control yourself," he urged. "Let that old anger go. It's causing you distress. Distracting from your mission."

"I've been trying for ten years," she admitted. "But it's _hard_ , when the source of the anger doesn't ever seem to go away."

"You can do it. I've not seen you fail at anything yet."

"Thank you, Master, for your faith in me," she replied, as diplomatic as she could be.

"It'll work out." Obi-Wan was firm. "Relax. Trust your instincts."

She nodded, again, and resolved herself. "I need to go and make sure Fett doesn't run."

"Alright. Be careful, and stay calm."

"I shall."

* * *

Jango didn't want to run, but he didn't have much choice. Something about that Jedi struck him as off. They weren't usually like that. The ones he remembered fighting - the ones he had killed on Galidraan had been measured, deliberate men. That made them dangerous, yes, because a Jedi could do a hundred things that other people couldn't. But it also made them predictable. They were moral, upright beings. They were _good_ , and good people were predictable.

This Jedi, Akrem Skywalker was young and dangerous and angry, about something. He'd never met an angry Jedi before. Even Tyranus wasn't quite like this Skywalker.

He knew he had to go, before she came back.

But she was waiting for him, in front of the _Slave I_. Just standing there, out in the rain.

"Get back," he ordered Boba. "Hide."

His son stared at him with those dark eyes, and nodded once, before taking off back into the complex.

Jango turned back to the Jedi. He'd have to be fast, to beat one of them.

He drew, the pistol spinning into his grip, the bolt flaring out and moving towards the target, dead-on - only to be deflected, by the vibrant blue blade. He kept firing, but the Jedi was too skilled.

A little sleight of hand, and a charge was next. She flicked it away with a wave of her hand. It exploded along the walkway, to the side. This was the problem with Jedi. Lightsabers were an impressive weapon. He flicked his arm. Another wrist rocket.

She leapt up into the air, and he rocketed backwards, out of the range of her strike. More shots, which she deflected.

The humming of the lightsaber was close, now, and he was running out of tricks. He tried to tangle her with wire, but she just danced out of the way. The movement of the saber sliced out, again.

A report sounded, and her blade flashed, deflecting a bolt from the side. He saw his chance, opening fire as best he could. She moved, almost too fast, but one blast scored into her thigh, burning through the thick material.

Her movement became jerky, and she thrust out a hand. He was flying through the air, moving, spinning - he tried to activate his jetpack again, but it just sent him spinning even faster.

A crash, a thud, and then he was falling to the ground. The blade flashed through his blasters, and was held down on his neck.

"Get him out here," the voice hissed.

Jango tensed, looking up at the Jedi's face, under the hood. "Spare him," he pleaded.

"Fine," she agreed.

Damn. The kid was good, he learned his lessons, but sometimes, the Jedi were better.

Damn, damn, damn.

* * *

The rain was stronger, now, that she was packing them into the small cockpit of the ship. The bounty hunter disarmed, and his weapons smashed, in cuffs, and the kid was in a matching set.

For the first time in a while, she wished Obi-Wan were here, just so she could keep an eye on them both.

"Let the kid go," Jango Fett said, and Akrem wasn't feeling particularly generous, so she was inclined to say no. "This wasn't the deal."

"I'm altering the deal," she spat, leg still smarting. "Pray I don't alter it any further."

"You'll regret this."

She folded her arms, chair spun around to glare at them. She was glad, now, that she hadn't taken the little starfighter that they'd offered, and gone with a shuttle. Less flash, but she couldn't stand fighters that she'd not modified herself.

"I think I'll regret it more if I let your son go, with a grudge against me," she pointed out. "He's already taken one shot. Is it so foolish not to give him another?"

He grimaced, but didn't argue.

It was going to be a long way to Coruscant, and she needed to meditate the whole way.


	4. Opening Shots

Master Windu was waiting for her, as she stepped back into the Temple. The Guard had taken away the prisoners, and she was glad to be getting back to the temple. Away from this mission, which had tried her control more than she wanted to admit.

"You've done well," he admitted, inclining his head and falling into step. It seemed almost grudging. His presence in the Force, always a still, wary kind of calm, was no different.

"Thank you, Master. Forgive my earlier rudeness. It was unbecoming."

"As you say." He paused for a second or two, before he opened his mouth, again, swirling with questions. "The presence of this clone army is as distressing to us as it is to you, Padawan."

She nodded, gravely. "Once I took the time to clear my head, that was as obvious to me as it is to you."

"You'll also be happy to know that Senator Amidala is safe, and returning in time for the vote," he declared. "Though, it won't be happening until we find out what this man knows, and what he doesn't."

"I hope he is most informative - on both subjects," she said.

He nodded. "Dismissed." And he strode off.

She breathed a sigh of relief, finally happy to be able to sit back, for once.

* * *

The aftermath of her fateful mission to Kamino led to a few things: Obi-Wan came back, and punished her severely for disrespect; Jango Fett testified in front of the Senate; and, strangely enough, Akrem was asked to take the Trials.

Funnily enough, the third thing did not preclude the first, and thus, it was the newly knighted Akrem Skywalker that spent her first night as a full Knight of the Order cleaning her old Master's suite. And then the bathrooms. And then the training room.

The interrogation, on the other hand, revealed a great number of things. Akrem was partial to some of them, not just because she had interrogated him first. Some one released the whole thing on the HoloNet, to much controversy.

The Republic had an army now, to go with their Military Creation Act. Except, the military in question was already created. All the Republic had to do was own it.

Akrem wasn't sure it was possible, but the votes became even more tense. Amidala was allowed to return to Coruscant, still as angry as ever. The Trade Federation had wanted her killed, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.

They deliberated.

Meanwhile, Akrem was a Jedi Knight. She moved her room, and enjoyed the flowers sent by the Chancellor - he had no time for a meeting, since he was busy with the vote. She even finally got a starfighter, to call her own, instead of having to requisition one - one of the new Delta-7 _Aethersprite_ s. Akrem wanted to name it the _Shmi_ , but that would be labeled as a dangerous attachment. Another thing the Jedi wouldn't let her have. So, instead, she named it _Sunsets_ , to remind her of her mother.

She spent a few hours the first few days modifying it - if there was going to be a war, she knew she wanted more than just the baseline fighter. Master Tiin watched her, approvingly, for the first few hours. He'd modified two by himself - and could offer meaningful advice.

He even offered a custom hyperdrive - something she wanted, because of those annoying circular hyperdrive gates, and a meditation chair. Akrem was more worried about the engines, however, adding maneuverability foils and boosting the thrust power with racing engines. And more blasters, of course, and a complement of missiles for ship-to-ship dogfights. It felt excessive, but she had a feeling.

Of course, whatever the vote was going to be, they never got the chance to figure out - two days later, on the eve of the vote, Separatists attacked the cloning facilities at Kamino. Dooku addressed the galaxy on the HoloNet - a long, expansive speech about the tyranny of the Republic and the justification of the Separatists. He argued that the Republic had been preparing for war for a decade, and that it was only by striking first could he maintain his people's sovereignty.

And thus, the Senate was convened in a midnight emergency session, and even the Military Creation Act's most ardent opposition couldn't argue against granting Chancellor Palpatine emergency powers to authorize the clone army.

Akrem was faced with a choice, then. She was against slavery, obviously. And she had hoped that the Jedi were similarly against it. But it seemed that they were like the rest of the Republic: against slavery in principle, but unwilling to put themselves on the line against it. Slavery, Akrem had realized, needed to be fought, with an ardent zeal and an uncompromising vigil.

It wouldn't be solved by the Senate, because they didn't serve the people - they served their own interests, and the interests of those who financed them. As long as the Jedi dogmatically followed the will of the Senate, there would be no justice from them, either.

So, that was the question - she didn't really know what else she might do, if she wasn't going to stay a Jedi. She didn't know what other choice she had, and whether she agreed with them or not, the clones still existed, in slavery. And the Jedi would still use them - more than one of them had resigned, rather than participate in the war.

She couldn't change anything by walking away. But she could, maybe, by staying.

And then Akrem was in her new starfighter, with the droid accompaniment, R2-F11, on the way to the fight.

* * *

The official chain of command would be that as a Jedi Knight, Akrem would have the rank of a Jedi General, with a force of ten thousand clones at her disposal. This was not _now,_ however, since as of right now, she was part of a special Jedi task force to wipe out the task force invading Kamino.

The Grand Army of the Republic wasn't quite grand, yet. All the clones had still been on Kamino - they were, after all, not approved until a few hours ago. And the Kaminoans had purchased a number of _Acclamator_ -class ships to transport the clones, as well as gunships and tanks, to fit in those ships. Which was all well and good, considering that they were providing troops and crew and the like, but not the fleet to support that army. They were primarily transport - large, wedge-shaped cruisers, with more of a nod to capacity than anything else.

Akrem had serious doubts about the _Acclamators'_ utility as anything but troop transports - they were large, lumbering beasts with a few turbolasers on the front, and a good hyperdrive presumably to get to the fight faster - they could contend with the Trade Federation's circular _Lucrehulks_ , their famous, donut-shaped droid control ships, since those were cargo freighters repurposed into warships, but any half-decent cruiser should outclass them.

So, right now, there was an army on Kamino, and the other parts - the ships that would provide most of the firepower off of the planet's surface - weren't there.

And there was a fleet of Separatists between there and everywhere else.

The luck was, however, that the army was ready, and equipped, so the strategically vital city of Tipoca at least had a force to defend it. And the Grandmaster of the Order, Yoda, had gone with a few of the High Council - Shaak Ti and Ki-Adi-Mundi - to investigate the clone army.

The luck was that Kamino was rather well-defended, when it came to a ground battle. The downside was that it was almost certainly going to come to a ground battle - a small fleet of troop transport ships certainly weren't going to fight off an entire Separatist strike group.

As Master Plo Koon explained, this was a relief force, designed to drive the Separatists away from the planet. They were to fight as many as they could, with what they had - a few _Acclamators_ , a large contingent of _Consular_ -class cruisers - repurposed diplomatic ships, with weapons retrofitted on, two _Dreadnaught_ -class cruisers - older models, but ones that had never seen much popularity after the failure of the _Katana_ fleet, and, of course, flights of Jedi, in _Aethersprite_ s.

Akrem was under the command of Obi-Wan, in Blue Squadron, along with Aayla Secura and Tsui Choi. They were on transport duty - attempting to keep droids from landing.

The fleet punched into the system. The space around the planet was filled with a Separatist fleet - massive, lumbering _Lucrehulks_ , smaller but nonetheless dangerous Banking Clan _Munificent_ frigates and Commerce Guild _Diamond_ -class frigates, built for toughness. They'd committed quite a bit.

But Blue Squadron's goal was not to fight in space. The goal was to stop troops from landing.

"Blue Squadron, with me," her old Master ordered.

She followed Obi-Wan's ship carefully away from the fleet, tracking the droids and landing craft down to the surface. They wove through fleets - the _Aethersprite_ s might have felt clunky to Akrem, but even an average Jedi had reactions far beyond that of a mass-produced droid starfighter.

The first group arced through the air, towards them. Akrem pivoted, and her new turrets fired. It was slow, compared to Podracing. The Force guided her, flowing through and letting her swipe shots across masses of enemy fighters.

More droids joined the fight, and Akrem let herself fall into a rhythm.

"Blue Squadron, a landing craft, coming up on sensors." The Trade Federation craft were almost too large for small starfighters to defeat, but they were lightly armed and relied on repulsor technology to stay in flight.

"Blue Leader, I've got the right. Two and three, disable it," Choi called.

Master Choi and Obi-Wan engaged the fighters, and Akrem hit the lander on the base, where the engines were - she'd studied the weaknesses of the craft, in preparation for this.

It exploded, at the impact from the torpedoes, and began to lose altitude. One landing craft, gone. They continued their assault, weaving amongst the storm of ships, balancing on a knife's edge.

It was like podracing, but everyone was Sebulba. Goosebumps trickled down her back.

Akrem's face twisted in a savage, delighted grin.

* * *

Their advantage lasted until Obi-Wan had a group of tri-fighters on his tail, and could not shake them. Her Master might have been a competent pilot, but he was no prodigy, and she dispatched a droid starfighter, and maneuvered into a u-turn, tearing off through the spires of Tipoca after him.

He shook one, with a lucky flight around a tower, and she juked around a dome, firing another missile, which tracked towards one fighter. Obi-Wan dodged another, but the third fired its own missiles. Akrem saw it - there was only one option, in her mind. She pulled up the thruster, firing long enough to fire her cannons and dive into the way of the missile.

It hit her flank, dead on. Perfect. Obi-Wan was not going to die today, even if her new starfighter was going spiraling down into the city. But it hadn't been a direct hit - which it would have been, so she was able to control the descent down into the city.

"Akrem!" he shouted into the comm.

"I'm fine, Blue Leader," she called back. "I'm out of this battle, though."

"Regroup with Master Yoda," he ordered.

"Noted, Master. May the Force be with you," she replied.

The rest of the group echoed the sentiment, and she spun the ship down onto a long thoroughfare, popping the cockpit's glass, and summoning the Force.

Her leap took her up high, and her momentum slowly bled out, and it was simple enough to land, feeling the pain in her leg as she did so. The street was abandoned, but she could see smoke curling up a block or two away.

R2-F11 was fine, whirring softly. She couldn't move, not since the _Aetherspite_ s did not allow for droids to be taken out of the fighter. She'd just have to sit tight, until Akrem came back.

She drew her lightsaber, and went to join the fight.

* * *

CT-7567, the clone who called himself Rex, held the line. It was ingrained in them. They had been raised, brought up to fight and die for the Republic. And today, they were fighting and dying for their home. He needed to make sure that his brothers did not - that those who were unfinished were not snuffed out.

The city that had once seemed like the whole galaxy had become a killing ground. His brothers lay amongst the dozens of dead droids. Bodies, and blasted plasteel stained black with soot.

They had fought off patrols and tanks, guarding the key point in the city. It had been hours, and hours, and the droids did not stop, or halt, or anything. They came, and came, and came, until the 501st could have made barricades from their carcasses.

But they held the line. They were the 501st, and they were a cut above the rest. An example to their brothers.

He checked his brother at the heavy gun, mounted from part of the wall. They'd formed a barricade, with part of a wall and the hollowed-out shell of a droid MTT. It was enough of a killing ground that holding this checkpoint was almost routine.

It might have been harder to fight the Separatists if they actually understood cover - if they took the time to hide behind the blasted shells of burned-out vehicles. But they didn't, so they died in a killing zone.

The waves of droid had stopped, for the moment, and waves of smoke rose around them, as their blasters cooled.

A trail of smoking wrecks littered the path up to them. Among them, a humanoid shape picked over the wreckage, a blue blade shimmering in their hand.

"Jedi!" he called. His brothers were up, and attentive, in seconds. The Jedi arrived - a Twi-lek, in dark robes that looked heavy, lined with distinctive fur. He knew this one - they were to be assigned to her. He held up a hand. None of them raised their weapons.

She nodded, and called. "Knight Skywalker. May I come up?"

"Of course, General," he said, warmly. "I thought you were supposed to be flying with Blue Squadron."

"I was," she said, lightly, deactivating her lightsaber and casually hopping up to the barricade. Like it was nothing - he was amazed at the casual use of that power. It was a stark reminder that Jedi were not like other beings. "But it's hard to run air support when you're shot down."

"Shot down?" he asked.

General Skywalker smirked, lightly, showing her teeth. "Well, yes. Took a glancing shot that might have been fatal for my old Master."

Helping a friend. He could respect that.

He nodded. "CT-7567, of the 501st, General. Our orders are to stop anyone from passing this point."

"Understood," she said. "Anything I should call you?"

"Informally, I go by Rex," he admitted, looking out at the killing lanes they'd set up, feeling oddly nervous about admitting his name.

"Alright, Rex," she agreed. He felt oddly vindicated, from something so small. "I should report to one of the Jedi Masters. Any idea where they might be?"

"No, sir," he said. "But we can get on the comm, if you don't mind sticking around for a few minutes."

She nodded, resting against the barricade. "That sounds agreeable."

"Appo," he called to his second.

"Sir," came the call, from beneath the barricade.

"Get Command on the line. General Skywalker needs orders."

"Yes, sir," he said, saluting, and walking off.

The General looked back at him, eyes wide. She didn't get much of a chance to ask anything else, because the spotter shouted, then.

"Hostiles!"

"Eyes up, 501st!" Rex called.

The General turned, and activated her lightsaber. "Where would you like me?"

He paused, unsure. It was a notable deferral. She was his nominal superior, and she likely knew that.

"Make sure none of them get past the barricade," he said. "If you can take out the tanks, that would be… helpful."

"Of course," she agreed, standing with a grim sort of smile.

Time for another round, he thought, grimly, as the repeater cannon started sounding. He didn't spare much time for thoughts, other than sighting down his blaster, and taking aim at the advancing droids.

Skywalker leapt, again, like a shadow, _into_ the storm of fire, blue blade like a tornado, everywhere at once.

He could use a thousand men like her. But that was the Jedi, wasn't it?

* * *

The forces that attacked Kamino, in that first battle, the opening shots of the Clone Wars, were still untested, mostly. They were not yet the powerhouse they would become - still reliant on the weight of numbers. Groups like the Trade Federation and the Banking Clans were used to fighting, but their experience was fighting pirates, or oppressing minor systems on the Outer Rim.

They were used to the sheer might of numbers - and they were used to weak, disorganized, undisciplined opponens. Pirates who broke at the first sign of trouble, or peaceful militias of those who were not soldiers.

The clones were none of these things. They were a trained, well-equipped, and disciplined fighting force. They were not Nabooians, brave but ultimately no warriors. A million droids were nothing, compared to the clones that were ready for action in Tipoca City.

Akrem tore through another rank of droids. It had been hours, and they showed no signs of stopping. Of course, they also showed no signs of tactics or strategic thinking, either, but the sheer weight of numbers might have made up for it.

After the first few waves, and once the 501st had gotten a breather, she'd contacted Master Yoda, who'd ordered her and the rest of the legion to drive into the city, and secure and hold a landing zone, to stop the Separatists from landing any more troops. They were to fortify it with SPHA walkers, to stop any more landers, and any starfighters that tried to disrupt them.

The push into the city might have been much harder, if the droids understood much of anything about fortifications. They had no new tactics, not since their pitiful guarding of Theed. Back then, it had been child's play - literally, for her - to sneak into the city. The droids understood checkpoints and patrols, but that was it.

That was the extent of their tactics. And while some droids were stronger and smarter - super battle droids, or droidekas, they were few and far between. Akrem led the group through the city, acting like a predator - ambushing weak points, using her mobility to stay ahead of the advancing group.

And the clones, as a fighting force, were impressive - they used an AT-TE as the haft of the hammer, and a squad of commandos, led by Rex, kept ahead of the advance of the rest. Add in jetpack troopers and gunship support, and the advance was smooth. It felt like there was a distinct advantage in the clone troops - not that they didn't take casualties, but they were a fraction of the droids destroyed.

Akrem stood with Rex, at the landing site - a commercial spaceport, with a long smooth bit of tarmac, anti-air guns pointed up at the sky, and gunships circling them, once they'd won, and she wondered just how worth it was. She was soaked with rain, and soot, and oil - these robes felt the furthest thing from clean, and she was sure that there was not a bit of her that wasn't wet.

"How many?" she asked.

"How many?" he repeated, cocking his helmet. Right, he wasn't privy to her thoughts.

"How many clones did we lose?" She could feel the distinct surprise, in his emotions. He saw them as disposable. She grimaced - it had that cool smoothness of a conditioned thought. She almost had expected him to be different - there were a few personalizations, to his armor. His helm had odd, eye-shaped marks above the visor, and he was wearing one pauldron, and an odd skirt. Akrem thought they were Mandalorian personalizations, but she wasn't sure.

"One hundred fifty-four," he reported, helmet tilted.

"More than I'd like."

He glanced up at the rain. "It's about what I expected."

"They were important. Their lives mattered, to me," she told him.

"People die, in war. It's what we're bred for."

"And that's the problem," she hissed. "You are bred, for this. Why? For Senators? For Dooku's megalomania? For a war you didn't choose?"

He stiffened. Those kinds of thoughts were heretical, to him.

"They died for their brothers," he said, decisively. "This is our home, General. Beyond that, it doesn't much matter to me."

"My apologies," she said. "I let my prior feelings cloud my judgement."

"It's quite alright," he agreed.

"Of course."

* * *

When the battle was won, and night had fallen on the ever-present rain on Kamino, the Separatists withdrew, beaten back. Akrem wondered how costly that attack had been to them. They'd pushed in and bombed one of the facilities, which every Jedi had felt.

The deaths of two hundred thousand sentients, even clone children, resounded through the Force. And the clones themselves - when the news came over the comm, they changed. A grim purpose overtook them, and they fought with renewed vigor.

Akrem had no idea how anyone could deny that these clones were people. They felt, they fought, and they were individuals. They had names. They were not units, or products, and she did not regret speaking harshly to the Jedi Council.

The meeting room on Kamino was hot with the smell of sweat and ash, as the Order gathered after the battle. They had taken one of the Kaminoan rooms, which meant there was no seating.

Yoda stood in the middle, the shortest of all of them as he addressed them. It was quiet, and short, and he thanked them all for fighting.

"Fight to protect the Republic, we must," he said. "Sworn to defend it, we are."

Yes, that was true, but Akrem couldn't help but feel that this was not defending the Republic in the same way that he meant it. They were supposed to be defenders of the people, but all they had protected was the Republic's interests.

No one was speaking of the clones as _beings_ , they were an army, one that had not asked for this war, but had to fight for it. They might as well have defended a warehouse full of billions of Republic credits, rather than hundreds of millions of lives. Akrem could not let those feelings out - could not let herself feel them at all - not now, not in a room full of Jedi.

They received their assignments - they were to report to their assigned sectors, for a muster. The _Acclamator_ s were still the transport, but more dedicated warships were on the way. The Republic's strategy was to split the current battle-ready clone forces into groups, and spread them around their currently held territory, so they could push the Separatists back, wherever they struck.

From there, they split up. The group would eventually become the Third Army - the troops necessary were not ready, but for now, they were focused on the region around Kamino - the Outer and Mid Rim, in the southeast galactic corner of the galaxy.

Command was given to Eeth Koth, but the Thirteenth Sector Army, Iron Lance, was led by Obi-Wan, and Akrem was directly under him. She was glad to see him alright, looking damp, like everyone else, but smiling. The Force was at work, since Akrem was assigned to the 501st - and it was one of the more intact units, at the moment.

The Iron Lance had orders to patrol the surrounding area around Kamino and discover any Separatist bases that might have been staging points for the attack, as well as stay close to Kamino, which was now a high-priority strategic target. A rapid response force, with orders to stay vigilant.

To this end, they were getting three new starships - the _Venator_ s. They were a new class, called a Star Destroyer, and designed to be a much more space combat-capable _Acclamator_. They only had two thirds the space for troops, but they had much stronger weapons, and a full complement of fighters. A ship like that was well-suited to a Jedi leading a legion.

She should have guessed. Akrem also got a shiny new ship to go with her shiny new clone legion. How odd that whoever was in charge of the Grand Army of the Republic already knew what they'd need, long enough to prepare a whole new class and fleet of ships, long before the first battle was fought.

She had a question or two, about the distribution of forces. She was barely a Knight, and she seemed to have gotten the assignment of a much more senior Jedi. Perhaps someone higher up was looking out for her - though the High Council had never seemed to quite like Akrem. She had to have some support, since she was promoted, but they weren't the type to favor her.

But Palpatine was in charge of the army, so maybe it was him. It seemed par for the course - he seemed to reward his supporters, in the Senate and out. She'd have to send him a message, to thank him.

Akrem felt the pang - she ought really to be going back to the Temple, but this was her life now.

The group split up - Master Koth dismissed them, back to the accommodations that the Kaminoans were to give them, and Akrem caught up with Obi-Wan, walking down the hall through pristine white corridors.

Akrem was very much looking forward to being dry. She hoped they weren't sonic showers, but simply not squelching as she walked was going to be more than enough.

"Alright, Master?" she asked, feeling playful. "Were you fine, without me watching your back?"

"I was," he said. "Thank you, Akrem, for looking out for me."

"It was nothing."

"You're unharmed?"

They paced further, and she flicked her lekku, trying to wick away the moisture. "I'm fine. It seems like the Federation hasn't changed tactics in a decade, and their battle droids are not much of a threat."

"Take care not to become overconfident, young one," he cautioned. "All it takes is one very lucky shot."

"Don't say that, Master," she replied, wryly. "I couldn't bear to lose you."

He frowned, looking uncomfortable, and then cleared his throat. "A Jedi must not have attachments," he warned. "All things will pass, Akrem."

"That's not what I meant." The gall of him, to lecture her on _that_ , now, when the entire Order had looked the other way on her mother's slavery and eventual death.

He grimaced. "I understand. I will admit that I am in dire need of a wash, and some meditation. Until later," he said, opening his door.

She frowned after him. She'd been teasing, but she did care very deeply for Obi-Wan. She didn't want to imply anything else by that, but that was why she'd thrown her fighter into the rockets with such abandon.

It was honest. Perhaps she should not be so, with the Jedi. Attachment, she reminded herself. Well, see if they liked how she was about to get attached to a change of clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to follow the Clone Wars shows, either of them. I plan to use elements, but they'll be in whatever order I feel like, or is relevant to the plot. It's not like the 3D version actually bothers to stay in order, anyway. As much as I like Ahsoka, who is going to feature in this fic prominently, I don't actually really like the 3D version much (outside of a few arcs), and the original animated one is a little short for what I'm planning to do.
> 
> Also, Akrem caught Jango early, so no Geonosis, which will have a few butterflies. And Akrem is knighted, which I'll admit I didn't explain very well, but I couldn't motivate myself to write the Council deciding it. It happened, mostly because of politics, and definitely won't come back to bite them later. Don't worry too much about it. Let me know what you think! I've only gotten one comment so far, feeling a little unloved :(
> 
> A KEY:  
> starships:  
> Republic:  
> Venator-class Star Destroyer : think a smaller, more carrier-specialized version of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Mostly used during 3D Clone Wars cartoon, and the opening of Episode III.  
> Acclamator-class Assault Ship : an earlier version of a star destroyer, focused on troop transport; the ships the clones were loading at the conclusion of Episode II.  
> Consular-class Frigate : a light, multi-purpose frigate; the ship Qui-Gon and Obi-wan take in early Episode I, destroyed by the Trade Federation.  
> Aethersprite-class Starfighter : a light, fast fighter used by the Jedi Order, so fast you need superhuman reflexes to use. The fighter used by Obi-Wan during Episode II.  
> Nimbus-class V-wing Fighter : a light, fast fighter used by clone troops. Mass-produced.
> 
> Separatist:  
> Invincible - Providence-class Carrier/Destroyer : same model as Grievous' flagship in the opening of Episode III. Separatist capital ship.  
> Lucrehulk-class Battleship : donut-shaped, heavily-armored droid carrier ship. Used for Invasion of Naboo in Episode I, destroyed by Anakin (and Akrem) in fighter.  
> Munificent-class Star Frigate : large, chunky frigates. Mostly used during 3D Clone Wars cartoon.  
> Vulture-class Droid Starfighters : Droid fighters used by Trade Federation and later Separatists in all prequels.  
> Hyena-class Droid Bombers : Bomber version of above.


End file.
